None of my musketeers were at brunch.

I hoped that Eric and Wes had made up with Dustin and the three of them had gone somewhere together, but I wasn’t sure if they were allowed to leave the school before ten. To keep Wuller from noticing they were gone, I hid myself in the group with Evans.

When Darius finished his coffee (which was all he ever had for breakfast), I left my table and ambushed him by the door.

“Do you still have that car?”

He sighed. “No, but I could probably borrow one.”

“Can you take me to visit Scott?”

He glanced at the empty table where the boys and I usually ate, then checked his watch. “I don’t know how much time I can give you, but I have some calls to make, and I can make them from the hospital as easily as I could make them here.”

“You, sir, are a knight in shining armor.”

“Wrong.” He turned and started walking. “I’m something the knights would have been hunting.”

I thought about that as I followed him. “Since you’re still around, does that mean you’re better than a knight in shining armor?”

He smiled his subtle, closed-lip smile and said nothing.

It was a while before we left. First, we had to talk to Wuller, then we had to track down a car we could borrow, but once we were out of the gate, we only stopped long enough to buy some flowers, before driving to the hospital.

When we got to Scott’s room, we found him conscious, lying in his inclined bed, talking to Wes and Eric.

Scott laughed when he saw the flowers. “Oh, man, nothing beats being a fair maiden!”

I crossed over to the bed so he could smell them.

Darius came into the room. While tucking his sunglasses into his suit-coat pocket, he said, “Mr. Reed. Mr. Osborn. Imagine meeting you here. What was it? A three hour walk?”

They had both bowed their heads and looked away when Darius and I came into the room, and they didn’t look up when Eric answered.

“Two and a half,” he grumbled.

“So you must have gotten here at eight in the morning?” Darius said.

“Seven.”

I motioned to Scott’s slung-up arm. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Surgery’s this afternoon,” he recited. “The ligament was torn or something. Mum’s on her way. They let me put off calling her until she was awake, but now she’s mad at me for not calling her immediately!”

He rolled his eyes. It was clear there was nothing in the world more exasperating than a Mum.

He went on, “They said I could be back to school by Tuesday or Wednesday. I said there’s not much point in surgery if I only get two days off.”

I left the flowers with him while I went over to the sink to put water in the vase we’d bought.

“Otherwise, you’re fine?” I asked.

“Yep! Bad shoulder, a bump on the head, some cuts and bruises.” He shrugged with his free shoulder.

“I’m glad to hear your prognosis is so good, Mr. Shipp,” Darius said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to make some calls.”

When he left, there was a long, uncomfortable silence. I thought Wes and Eric deserved it, so I kept my mouth shut and let them stew in it.

“Is…uh, is he going to tell Wuller?” Eric asked.

“I doubt it.” I brought the vase back to the bedside table, took the flowers from Scott, and untied the bouquet. “He’s the one that got permission for you guys to come with us even though you were already gone.”

Scott tried to sit up. All he managed to do was scoot his butt back an inch and raise his head.

“Did you bring Dustin?” he asked.

Wes grimaced and scratched his head, still without looking up. Eric frowned.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought he might be with Eric and Wes.”

“He doesn’t like breaking rules,” Scott explained. As if I didn’t already know that.

I kept my voice as even as possible and tried to focus on the flowers I was arranging. “Would you want to see him?”

“What kind of question is that?” Scott sounded indignant.

I glanced at Wes and Eric and managed to catch both sets of eyes before their gazes skittered off to the corners like cockroaches.

“I thought Wes and Eric might have told you,” I said.

“Told me what?”

So I had the honor of telling him that Dustin was a psychic—the only real psychic—about how powerful he was, and about how the building had been affecting him.

Scott’s response:

“Holy shit. Is Dustin okay?”

That’s it, ladies and gentlemen! The competition is over. Everyone else can go home, there will be no consolation prize. Scott Shipp is, officially, the best friend.

Judging by the sour expressions on their faces, Wes and Eric knew it too.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“I think Dustin’s upset because of what happened to you,” I said. “He knows it’s his fault.”

“That’s stupid. It was an accident.”

My heart swelled. I couldn’t have paid him for such a perfect, offhand delivery of that line. The light-hearted voice! The unrehearsed simplicity of it! The unknowing yet completely soul-crushing destruction of his two friends!

“Is that why he didn’t come?” Scott scowled and felt around the bed. “Where’s my phone? I’m going to call him—tell him he’s a jerk for not visiting. With Doritos. And more flowers.”

“Your phone is right there, druggie.” Eric nodded to the table on his left side. “But Dustin doesn’t have a phone. Remember?”

“He doesn’t have a phone?” I said.

“Never has.” Wes’s voice was soft and thoughtful. “He said they kept breaking on him.” Wes shifted in his seat. “His watch is a wind-up.”

No phone. A wind-up watch. And lights bursting over his head when he gets upset.

Scott leaned back. “Then you tell him he’s a stinker. And he owes me Doritos.”

“You’re not supposed to eat if you’re going into surgery,” I reminded him.

“After my surgery,” he amended without missing a beat.

Eric's already hunched shoulders slouched even further, curling over his chest. I thought I saw a hint of red creep up Wes’s face.

“I can tell him,” I offered. I finished setting up the flowers and pushed them to the center of the small bedside table. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” Scott announced.

I pulled up a nearby chair and sat down. “Now, tell me how you’re doing.”

Scott tried to tell me everything that had happened since he was put in the ambulance. I don’t know what the doctors had him on, but his story was even more random than normal, achieving an incomprehensibility formerly unknown to man. It was impossible for anyone to feel bad while listening to his disjointed rambling, so it wasn’t long before Wes and Eric joined our conversation. They would toss in a well-placed, mocking comment or ask him questions to highlight one of his more bizarre statements and, possibly, to see how far Scott would take it if given enough encouragement.

We were still chatting, a half hour later, when there was a knock on the door. The conversation stopped. We all looked to see who it was.

The count leaned in. “Emerra, we need to leave in ten minutes. I’ll get the car and meet you at the entrance.”

“Thank you, Darius.”

When Wes and Eric turned back around, I said, “You guys want a ride?”

The two of them looked at each other. I could see them calculating distances and considering another two and a half hour walk.

“Uh…if you don’t mind,” Wes said.

Scott groaned. “Do you have to go?”

“How else am I supposed to tell Dustin he’s a stinker?” I teased.

Scott made a twitchy face that could have been part grimace and part frown. “Emerra, you guys have been looking for the source of the psychic powers, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re not going to take him away from us, are you?”

My heart couldn't decide if it wanted to fly a little or die a little. Fondness and sorrow—what a combination. So much nuance. You almost didn’t notice that it hurt.

“Scott, whatever happens, will you tell Dustin that you didn’t want him to go? He probably needs to hear it.”

“That sounds like you are going to take him away.”

“That building is really bad for him, and it seems like it’s only going to get worse.”

“But he’s been repressing his powers, right? What if he joins Reisig’s class?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. That won’t solve the problem. Besides, once the other boys find out, I’m not sure he’ll feel welcome.” I stood up and patted Scott’s leg. “I’ll make sure you get a chance to see him. For now, watch some cartoons for me.”

“I guess.”

“And no food!”

“Ugh. You sound like a nurse.”

“Come on.” I motioned to Eric and Wes.

They told Scott goodbye, promised him Doritos, and followed me into the hall. We walked to the elevator in silence. We rode it down to the ground floor without saying anything and walked to the entrance without exchanging a word. We stood in the pick-up zone, waiting for Darius in—wait for it—yet more silence.

Then I got impatient.

“If you’re waiting for me to apologize, I’m not going to,” I announced. “I’m not sorry.”

Wes and Eric both snorted out a laugh.

“Your silent treatment needs work,” Wes told me.

I turned and jammed my index finger into his chest hard enough he made an oof sound.

“You wish I’d give you the silent treatment. Sorry, bucko. My primary mode of punishment is the lecture.”

“There’s more you haven’t said to us?” Eric grumbled.

“I’ll say it again! Louder.”

“All right!” Eric held up his hands. “We know. We’re sorry. We were jerks—”

“You were a jerk,” Wes said. “I didn’t say anything. I still don’t think you can blame me unless I said something.”

“Then what were you thinking?” Eric asked.

Wes scratched his head. “Probably something selfish.”

“Did you figure all that out on your walk over?” I asked.

“It was a long walk,” Eric said.

“How’s Dustin?” Wes asked.

I looked down and scuffed the sole of my sneaker across the concrete. “I don’t know. He didn’t show up for brunch.”

Darius pulled up in the car. I took the front seat while Wes and Eric piled in the back.

Once we were all buckled in, Darius said in his sharp, official voice, “Mr. Reed, Mr. Osborn, do you know the whereabouts of Dustin Walman?”

“Darius,” I said, “you can’t ask them like that.”

The count paused. “Why not?”

“Because you sound like an FBI agent.”

“An FBI agent?” His eyebrows disappeared under his sunglasses as he furrowed them in an attempt to look hurt. “What an unkind thing to say.”

He put the car in gear and drove off.

As we were pulling out of the hospital’s parking lot, Darius said in an easy, conversational tone, “When I saw that Mr. Walman wasn’t at the hospital with Reed and Osborn, I called Conrad.”

Darius spoke as if he was addressing me, but I had long ago accepted that he sounded like an agent almost every time he opened his mouth. That relaxed tone must have been for the boys’ benefit.

He went on, “Conrad couldn’t find him.”

They took the bait.

“Did Dustin leave the school?” Eric asked.

Vasil glanced in his rearview mirror. “I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that, Mr. Reed.”

“How so?”

I explained, “If Dustin left the school, Conrad should have been able to follow his trail.”

“He’s missing?” Wes asked.

“We think he’s hiding,” Darius said.

“But how could he shut down Conrad’s nose?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” the vampire admitted. “There’s a lot about his powers that we don’t understand. I’ll ask again, even at the risk of sounding like an FBI agent—have either of you seen Walman since your encounter this morning?”

“You heard about that?” Wes said.

“I heard it.”

When Darius’s voice was that quiet and even, it would be so easy to miss the difference between “hearing it” and “hearing about it.”

“Is he in some kind of trouble?” Eric asked.

It gave me real pleasure to hear the note of anger and defiance in his question. At least some part of Eric still thought of Dustin as a friend.

“No, Mr. Reed, but we need to know where he is. He needs help. And we need to get him away from that building as soon as possible. Have you seen him?”

“No,” Wes said. “We went back to Eric’s room after the fight. When I went to get dressed, Dustin wasn’t in our room.”

“Did you notice anything different about the room?”

“He left his pajamas on the bed, so he must have changed into his clothes.”

“Weekend clothes, or his uniform?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Do either of you know where he might be hiding?”

I glanced over my shoulder when Darius asked the question. Wes and Eric looked at each other for a sliver of a second before Wes answered.

“No, sir.”

Darius hummed, then said, quietly, “Emerra, when we get back to the school, our first priority is finding him. Are you willing to help?”

“Of course.”

“How much sleep did you get?”

“How much sleep did you get?”

He glanced over long enough to raise an eyebrow. Too bad for him, mine was already raised.

Checkmate.

We were almost to the school, when Darius suddenly said my name.

I turned from the window I’d been staring out of, glassy eyed, and looked at the vampire. He nodded to the sky in front of us.

Clouds. Like always.

But they weren’t usually that low.

Or that brown.

“Oh, no,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”

I sat forward and put my hand on the dash, as if that might get me back to the school faster.

Darius pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Brisbane. This is Vasil. I need you to send a team to Setlan on Lee as soon as possible.” He paused. “If we don’t have an incident already, we will when the firetrucks arrive.”

He hung up. The car leapt forward as his foot weighed down on the gas.